If it were winter forever, I would be happy.
I would wear sweater’s and sweat pants every day.
If it were winter forever, I could hide my scars more easily.
If it were winter forever, I wouldn’t have to make excuse of why I’m wearing a long sleeve shirt or covering my arms with Band-Aids.
I have a feeling that you know I self-harm but you haven’t said anything to me.
If it were winter forever, I could make snow angels.
If it were winter forever, we could play in the snow all day long.
If it were winter forever, we could make igloos and drink hot chocolate made by your mother.
If it were winter forever, we could wear snow boots and have our skin be cold.
If it were winter forever I would be happy.

I was sitting enjoying my breakfast this morning.
My uncle, aunt and cousin and my cousin’s husband plus there two kids were there.
A full table, all eating and laughing.
We were enjoying the morning, I was even talking and listening to everyone.
One of my cousin’s kids started crying.
She is 2, she was tired or still hungry who knows really.
One of the people made a comment at the table and said **** is she on her period.
Believe me, I was shocked at this statement.
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet.
I’m not overreacting, I think it was rude to have said that.
First off, she is too young to be having periods, even if she were older it wouldn’t matter.
So, you think if women cry, or are moody you assume were on our period.
Maybe were moody because were tired, or maybe were not having a good day.
Maybe were ******* because of the comments we have to hear about our bodies.
Am I overreacting?
Was it alright for him to say **** is she on her period?

8 days, 8 days I was living, breathing and sleeping.
8 days.
Ocho- meaning 8 in Spanish.
Acht- meaning 8 in German.
8 days since the last time I self-harmed.
8 days, isn’t that great?
I have had a few breakdowns and I have cried a lot in these 8 days.
I feel the urge to cut.
Feelings are overwhelming me.
I’m sad and happy, delusional and anxious.
I get nervous over the simplest things.
I can’t live.
Cutting, cutting was the way I dealt with things.
It was my habit, everyone has one.

It isn't easy.
Once you've grown
wise enough to realize
that the little ones are the only good humanbeings .
Your back is already worn out like
well read paper back.
And your heart ,your hearts
been hardened by too many cigarettes and too many
pretty faces who always came and  went a bit too soon.

You got to hit your rhythm right before you reach the apex .
Then Like that first time we tried DMT
just sit back and enjoy the ride.

You gotta barrel through it all .
The burdens of society.
The addictions
The struggle between what you
want to do and what makes you
enough to keep her happy.

We're cursed with such a narrow perspective.
Unlike the bare butterfly who
lives out their time in all Realities.

If you dont listen to Frusciante
you might not understand me today.

Learn how to survive with the least
amount of your abilities
and call this progress.

Decay always begins once growth ends.
And there ll be plenty of dreams to **** tomorrow .

She was walking up and down rows of graves.
Looking carefully at the names and when they died.
Was she looking for someone?
No she wasn’t this is one of her hobbies, to visit graves.
She is fascinated with death.

My aunt was cleaning out my grams closet and couldn’t find anything red to wear.
She was looking for a red dress, for me to wear to prom.
I guess I had no choice in the matter.
Red dress, why red?
Why did my aunt insist on me wearing red?
Why were we looking in my gram’s closet? Why weren’t they looking through my clothes?
Why were they looking at all? Isn’t is my job to pick out something?
I wanted a yellow dress, a beautiful long yellow dress.
I have a yellow dress, it’s my favorite, but I don’t want to wear it now.
I’m saving it for my funeral, I want to be buried in my yellow dress I already have.